You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up
by A Lily By Any Other Name
Summary: Lovino Vargas hates his roommate. Antonio Carriedo loves his roommate and tomatoes. How many tomatoes will it take to win over an Italian? Spamano (and more) College! AU.
1. Pain In The Neck (And In The Ass)

**A/N: College AU with Spamano as the main focus! Have you guys seen that Tumblr post floating around about a romantic comedy novel called "You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up"? If you have, well, that's where the title came from. My friend BrightBlueNinjas is my co-author, so give her some credit, too. POV will circulate from time to time. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. **

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & Bright Blue Ninjas**

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**Chapter One: Pain In The Neck (And In The Ass)**

Lovino woke to the worst pain in his neck.

The flight was excruciatingly long; nearly nine hours on a flying metal deathtrap. His little brother—Feliciano—got the window seat (after winning a game of rock, paper, scissors) so Lovino was stuck in what he dubbed the "loser seat" (a.k.a the aisle seat). He'd fallen asleep after about seven hours of flying, and when he woke, his neck felt like it have been broken several times. He left the plane in the worst mood he'd been in for the longest time—which is to say: pretty bad—while Feliciano, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

He.

Would.

Not.

Shut.

Up.

Nine hours of incessant blabbing about everything: the plane ride, the airport, America, college, the American girls. At one point, he had tried to flirt with their pretty flight attendant, but Lovino kicked him hard in the shin to stop his attempts (sadly, the girl had already left before he could make his move). He had woken him from his sleep by accidentally—_accidentally, sure—_jamming his elbow into his older brother's ribs. Now, Feliciano was hanging out the window of their taxi, and pointing to every building. Lovino hoped he fell into traffic.

"Romano!" Feliciano turned to him as the exited their cab. Lovino wrinkled his nose at the use of his childhood nickname. "Isn't this so exciting? We're starting university! In America!"

"Hell no," Lovino grunted as he withdrew his heavy luggage. He needed to start working out; his arms were thin as spaghetti. "Another four years of annoying people and book work. There's nothing exciting about that."

"Come on, big brother!" Feliciano laughed, and put his arm around Lovino's shoulders. "Look at the campus! It's so pretty! Where do you think our dorms are? I hope we room together. Ooh, I'll take the bed by the window-!"

"Don't fucking touch me, Veneziano," Lovino spat and shoved his brother off him. "And you can't have the bed by the window. I was already stuck with the loser seat for nine hours."

Feliciano didn't seem to mind his brother's abrasiveness as he followed him up to the dormitory building. The grass felt slippery with morning dew underneath their feet. Birds chirped and a few students tossed footballs—the American ones—back and forth on the lawn. The campus of Hetalia University—HU, for short—was already bustling with energy at the too-early hour of 1:00 PM EST. Lovino yawned as he dragged his luggage up the steps of the building. A tall, exceptionally well-dressed man with wavy blonde hair and a bit of stubble winked at him from his spot on the railing. Lovino scowled and flicked him off while the man laughed. He pushed the heavy double doors open—with Feliciano's help—and glanced up. The first year residence hall was several stories tall. There were several stairs to push people down from.

"Lovino, I found this rooming assignments!" Feliciano left his luggage by the door as he ran towards a long list posted on a bulletin board. "Come look at it with me."

A throng of students were already congregated around the list. Lovino shoved his way to the front with a giggly Feliciano in tow, and ran his finger down the paper in an effort to find his name. The list read:

_Rooming Assignments_

_Sixth Story:_

_Adnan, Sadik & Karpusi, Heracles_

_Bonnefoy, Francis & Kirkland, Arthur_

_Beilschmidt, Gilbert & Edelstein, Roderich_

_Beilschmidt, Ludwig & Vargas, Feliciano_

_Braginski, Ivan & Wang, Yao_

_Carriedo Fernandez, Antonio & Vargas, Lovino_

_Galante, Raivis & Laurinaitis, Toris & von Bock, Eduard_

_Honda, Kiku & Jones, Alfred_

_Oxenstierna, Berwald & Väinämöinen, Tino_

He had no clue who Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was. At least he wasn't rooming with his brother. He had spent nineteen years with the crybaby, and he didn't look forward to sharing a dorm with him. Feliciano, however, seemed distressed. He flapped his arms and clung to his brother as they made their way up the stairs.

"But I don't wanna room with the some guy named Ludwig!" Feliciano resisted his brother's shoving. "What if he's weird and into bondage?! I can't be a sub-!"

"Bye, _fratello,_" Lovino pushed him away while he tried to close the door of his dorm. "Enjoy the handcuffs!"

He slammed the door shut in his face, and laughed. Poor baby brother. He wouldn't make it an hour without him. In fact, he'd probably try to sneak in through the window and crawl in his bed at night. He'd leave the window unlocked just in case. Lovino left all his stuff in the center of the dorm, took off his shoes, and climbed into the top bunk. It seemed like this Antonio guy wasn't here yet. He didn't see any luggage anywhere or any claim over the top bunk. Oh, well. Even if this dude had claimed it, it didn't matter now. The _idiota _should have been there to protect his territory. There was no way he was giving it up; he was _not _going to suffer the travesties of the bottom bunk.

"_Hola, mi amigo!" _

Lovino almost rolled off the bunk at the loud exclamation. A guy no older than him stood in front of him with a bright smile. He wore a shirt with the Spanish flag on it, and held a tomato in his left hand. Lovino scowled.

"You must be Lovino, _si?" _He asked in a Spanish accent. "I'm Antonio. Would you like a tomato? I brought plenty from Spain. I feel like we're gonna be great friends, yes?"

Lovino blinked. He stared at the tomato being offered to him. Oh, man, tomatoes. The tomatoes grown here in America were probably shit, but that was a Spanish tomato straight from Spain. A plump, juicy, red tomato. Being offered to him by his weird Spanish roommate whom he had met approximately ten seconds ago. He took it carefully from the Spaniard. People—with the exception of Feliciano—were never this nice. Maybe his _fratello _wouldn't be the one stuck with a weird roomie.

"So, where are you from, _amigo?" _Antonio Carriedo leaned against the bedpost. Lovino scooted away. "Spanish, too? Vargas is a Spanish last name."

"Italy," Lovino muttered. "Not Spain. I don't speak Spanish."

"That's a shame," Antonio Carriedo shrugged. "But you like tomatoes, too, so you're okay. You have a brother? I saw two guys with the last name Vargas on the rooming list. He's rooming with some weird German guy, I think. I heard he's got a stick shoved up his _culo..."_

Lovino tuned him out as he kept blabbing about weird German guys. Ugh, Germans. They'd beaten Italy in soccer quite a few times with their shit beer and lame sausages. He hoped his brother would hate his new roomie.

_"_Hey, that's a cute little curl of hair—"

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH IT, ASSHOLE."

… And just when he thought this was going to be okay.

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**A/N: Reviews make me happy.- Lily **


	2. I Was Trying To Sleep, Wanker

**A/N: Second chapter! As mentioned previously, the main focus of this fanfiction will be Spamano, but there will be other pairings as well. Basically, every other chapter will be in Romano's POV, while the even chapters will be in somebody else's. England's chapter is rather short, bu enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & BrightBlueNinjas**

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**Chapter Two: I Was Trying To Sleep, Wanker. **

Arthur Kirkland was already busy setting up his side of the dormitory. He hummed under his breath as he hung his Harry Potter posters behind his bed. Unlike other dorms, his dorm didn't have bunk beds. Just two twin-sized beds facing each other at either end of the small room. The bed by the window was already claimed by his roommate as designer luggage lay on the clean sheets. Arthur didn't really care; he had no desire to see the sun rise very morning. He was too used to the constant dreary skies of London to want to sleep by the window.

He'd read on the rooming assignments sheet that his roommate was named Francis Bonnefoy, and based on the overly priced suitcases, he'd gotten to the room before him. However, Arthur knew he was alone in the dorm room. Arthur insisted on being a gentlemen about this. Your college roommate is your best friend—that was the Hollywood rule. But since he hated people, he doubted his roommate was going to be his best friend. Even so, he refused to be rude to a man that he was forced to share a room with. His plan was simple: he would arrive there first, and greet the man with a handshake and a proper introduction. Then they would part their ways and go on to their own classes. Arthur doubted they'd have the same classes. He was a practical genius while everyone else was little more than slightly evolved chimpanzees.

Arthur took a step back, admiring his side of the room. He had a number of posters aligning the walls, his clothes were all folded and packed into dressers, and he'd even swept his side of the room. Only his side, of course. Francis' side of the room was still unpacked, barren, and dusty. Where is he? Arthur thought, his eyes wandering back to the suitcase. It wasn't like he hadn't been able to find his way to the dorm—he'd left all of his stuff here. Maybe he just left to go explore the campus and got lost or met up with his friends or something superficial and unimportant.

Arthur clicked the TV on, flipping through the channels before deciding that nothing was worth watching and pulling out a book instead. After he read seven chapters of the Scarlet Letter, Arthur looked to his clock. Nearly eleven o'clock, and his roommate was still nowhere to be found. He shrugged. It wasn't his problem. He changed into his PJs, crawled into bed, and was out cold in a matter of minutes.

He got about half an hour of sleep before he was woken up.

It was a loud thump noise—like something getting slammed against the wall. Startled, he woke with a start. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes rapidly, and clutched his sheets. The doorknob twitched, as if someone were trying to open it. Arthur narrowed his eyes—he'd locked the door, as he was sure that Francis had a key to their dorm. Did someone mistake his dorm for theirs? If that was the case, they'd stop in a few moments. Arthur looked over to the bed across from his. Francis' suitcase still lay on the bed, untouched and unopened. Why the hell was he still out so late? Didn't they have a curfew? If so, he'd passed it by a long-shot.

The doorknob shook again, and the door swung open. A rather tall man stumbled in, clutching a girl in his arms. He had a bit of stubble around his chin, bright blue eyes, and outgrown blond hair. He was lip-locked with a tiny girl with long, inky black hair. The man closed the door behind him, all while not taking his eyes off of his partner and not paying Arthur the slightest bit of attention.

Arthur scowled, and then cleared his throat. The man took his mouth off the girl's for a second, only to frown in Arthur's direction. "Shit, it's my roommate."

Arthur groaned. Oh, God, please let this be some horrible mistake. The man—Francis Bonnefoy- gave the girl one last kiss on the forehead before bidding her _adieu_. She muttered something in response, her face a red mess as she hurried out of the door. The man made a face at Arthur's side of the room, walking over to the other bed and opening the suitcase.

He groaned. "No use. Eh, I'll unpack tomorrow."

"Excuse me," Arthur scowled. "Who—"

"Oh, sorry," he turned, offering Arthur his hand. "My name is Francis Bonnefoy. I'm your roommate."

It took all of Arthur's self-control not to spit on him.

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**A/N: Reviews make me happy- Lily**


	3. Restless Nights And Blue Pancakes

**A/N: Right... So... I lied! As it turns out, the structure of the fic is gonna change a bit. Instead of it being Romano's POV every other chapter, two other character's POVs will come in between his as a way to better pace the story. Either ways, Romano gets most of the attention in the long run. Who watched the soccer match between Germany and America today? I did. That's why I didn't upload earlier. Anyways, here's Japan's chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. **

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & BrightBlueNinjas**

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**Chapter Three: Restless Nights And Blue Pancakes**

"—can you believe they left my middle initial out?!"

Kiku Honda set down his American Literature textbook. His roommate—Alfred Jones—slammed the door of the dormitory shut. The tall blonde boy looked very upset: his glasses were askew and that stray piece of hair fell into his eyes.

"I had to go talk to admissions, and then found out that my middle initial isn't on any roster!" He shook his head dramatically. Kiku peered at him over his book. "Like, dude: It's Alfred _F. _Jones. Alfred Jones just sounds _wrong. _And they refused to listen to me at admissions! But then I threatened to boycott them. Now the 'F' is on every roster." He smiled proudly. Then he looked over at Kiku, and frowned. "Yo, dude, why are you reading a textbook? Classes haven't even started yet."

"_Hai_," he responded and pushed his book aside. "I know. But I figured it best to start reading up on my courses. I want to be prepared."

"That's pretty awesome, bro," Alfred knelt down by his mini-fridge in the corner of the room. Kiku caught a glimpse of what was inside: strange-looking drinks and cartons of ice cream. "But you don't have to do that. Is that how schooling is in Japan? Hey, you want a soda or some ice-cream? It's time for my ten o'clock snack."

"No, no thank you." He watched as the American boy dug a spoon in his chocolate ice cream. It seemed rather late for chocolate. "And no. In Japan, schooling is more intense than it is here. But we are not required to start our studies early on our own time. It is, however, encouraged."

His stack of books lay on the nightstand. All of his subjects were lined up in order: American Literature, chemistry, advanced calculus, world history, trigonometry, physics. Other novels—mostly American classics mentioned in his textbook—sat neatly on the bookshelf lining his wall. He noticed how his roommate's bookshelf was full of video games and movies. Kiku wondered where his textbooks were.

"I guess you won't wanna play Halo with me, then," the American book washed down his ice cream with a long gulp of artificially-flavored grape soda. "I'll turn the volume down low so you can read."

Kiku nodded, and picked up his book. Alfred sat cross-legged in front of his television. Plastic buttons clicked as he violently pressed his fingers against the controller. The screen flashed brightly against the wall. Kiku yawned, set his book down, and instead turned off the light. He turned away from his roommate. His nose almost pressed against the wall. He just noticed how tired he was. That time difference—and jet lag—was really getting to him. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

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Kiku almost passed out in his coffee.

The strong scent of the bitter beverage wafted towards his nose. He had never had much interest for coffee. Despite its growing popularity in Japan, he had always preferred the more traditional taste of green tea. In America, however, there seemed to be no other beverage on the breakfast menu other than coffee or orange juice. He took a sip of it to keep himself awake, but quickly set it back. It was scalding hot. He had gotten very little sleep last night. Who knew Alfred could stay up till early morning playing video games? He had offered to turn the volume down, but the brightness from the screen and his barely-hushed cheering whenever he passed a level—followed later by his loud snoring- still prevented a good rest. He debated telling him off, but finally decided against it as he did not want to come off as rude. His alarm went off at 8:00—the time he had set it to—and though he tried to fall asleep afterwards, he could not.

Alfred, however, was a different story.

It seemed as if he could sleep through anything. Kiku tried to be as silent as possible when he woke, but it probably wouldn't have mattered if he was less cautious. Even more admirable still was how energetic he was in the morning. He had been the one to drag Kiku down to a nearby restaurant—IHOP?—as soon as he noticed his roommate was awake (he had also left his side of the dorm a mess). Now, he was sitting across from Kiku while amiably chatting with him. Kiku felt bad for almost falling asleep, but Alfred didn't seem to mind. Their breakfast was set down in front of them. Kiku studied the platter curiously: a pile of pancakes topped with a copious amount of whipped cream, multi-colored sprinkles, and drizzled with chocolate. Kiku blinked. The pancakes were blue.

"Dig in, bro!" Alfred's words were muffled by a mouthful of pancakes. Kiku wished he wouldn't talk with his mouth full. "This is your first American breakfast experience!"

Kiku picked up his fork and scraped off all the sugar before taking a bite. The blue pancakes weren't half bad.

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**A/N: Reviews make me happy..- Lily**


	4. Wasps

**A/N: Update coming your way! I'll try to update daily (or ASAP), but with vacations coming up, I don't know if I'll be able to. My co-author is going somewhere pretty soon, and I'll be out of the country from mid July to mid August. So... Yeah. We'll see how this works out. Anyways, I'm really grateful for the reviews we've gotten so far. They really mean a lot. Thank you. Without further delay, here's Romano's chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & BrightBlueNinjas**

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**Chapter Four: Wasps**

"You _have _to meet him, Lovino," Feliciano gushed. Lovino scoffed and rolled his eyes. Feliciano had been babbling on about his roommate for about twenty minutes now. "He's just . . . oh, my God. I'm so lucky."

"Just yesterday you were against rooming with him—" Lovino started.

"I was super happy and I had a feeling he was gonna be a total hottie." Feliciano sighed, and Lovino scoffed yet again. He'd known this guy for a matter of hours, and that apparently made him really happy. Disgusting. Lovino already didn't like this guy. "He's so tall… And muscular… Oh, God, his muscles…"

"_Fratello_, don't be gross," Lovino growled, and Feliciano giggled. The two brothers exited the dormitory building. Most of the students ate outside. There were the sound of laughing and of opening chip bags from the picnic tables—Lovino hated it. It was the ultimate sound of stupidity. Feliciano, on the other hand, was a different situation. He was waving and smiling at a bunch of people that were strangers to Lovino. "Hey, Kiku! Hi, Heracles! Hi, Vash! Hi—"

"Feliciano, stop," Lovino muttered, and opened his bag of potato chips he had bought from a vending machine. He was starving, but he only had about five dollars in his pocket. Five dollars and a nickel. He couldn't exactly buy a lot with that. Feliciano had enough money to buy his own lunch, and he was making small talk with a tall, dark haired man in a cat sweater. Lovino grabbed his brother by the back of his collar, dragging him outside and cutting off his conversation short.

"Ow! Big brother! I was talking to Heracles—!" Feliciano whined.

"Well, you'd rather be with me, so shut up," Lovino snapped, looking around as he dragged his brother to the courtyard. The placed was literally packed; some students were sitting on the ground. Lovino made a face. There was no way he was sitting on the dirty-ass ground. These pants were new.

He was about to give up and go inside when a rather annoying Spanish accent shouted. "Lovino! Hey, over here!"

Lovino considered running. Or at least pulling his little brother into the cafeteria to just ignore Antonio. Feliciano wasn't up for ignoring people calling his brother's name, though, and grabbed Lovino by the wrist and dragged him to Antonio's table. Feliciano forced him to take a seat, and then beamed at him. "Hi! I'm Feliciano—Lovino's little brother."

"Hey, I'm Antonio—his roommate," Antonio smiled. He wasn't alone: two other people sat with him (that part annoyed him, because that meant he wasn't lonely or whatever. He simply wanted to annoy Lovino). The other two were both male, and around Antonio's age. One was blonde and blue-eyed, with a bit of stubble around his chin and wore designer clothes from head to toe. The other one was albino, shorter than both of his friends, had a mouth full of fries and ketchup stains on his Angry Birds t-shirt. He slouched over really bad. "And this is Francis and Gilbert."

Feliciano said hello to both of them, but Lovino didn't say anything. He simply chewed his potato chips.

"Anyways, my new roommate" Feliciano lost interest in saying hello, and instead turned back to his big brother. " . . . He's just . . . wow. And his eyes are so blue—"

"Dats mah whittle buddher," Gilbert said, his mouth still full of fries. Feliciano and Lovino stared at him, unblinking, trying to decode what he said.

"I'm sorry, what?" Feliciano asked.

Gilbert swallowed. "You're rooming with Ludwig Beilschmidt, right?"

Feliciano nodded.

"Yeah, that's my little brother."

Lovino snorted. 'Little' brother? If Ludwig Beilschmidt was really the tall, blond, blue-eyed Adonis that Feliciano described him to be, then it was hard to believe that he was younger than a man who clearly didn't know what napkins were.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's hard to believe a stick-up-the-ass geek like him could share a last name with someone as awesome and sexy as me," Gilbert shrugged, sticking yet another ketchup-doused fry in his mouth. "But yeah, he's my little brother."

Lovino smirked. "Well, my little brother thinks that your little brother is really h—"

Feliciano clamped his hand over Lovino's mouth, beaming and smiling at the three men. "My brother's so . . . . So funny! That's Lovino! Always funny!"

The blond man—Francis—rested his face on his palm and smiled at Lovino. "How do you get your hair to stick out like that?"

Lovino made a face, looking over to his curl. Ever since he could remember, a piece of his hair always stuck out from the side of his head and formed a curl. Lovino shrugged, scowling at Francis. His curl was Lovino-only territory—nobody but him could talk, touch, or even mention it. Antonio should have known that before he flipped shit on him yesterday. "I don't know, asshole."

"That's too bad," Francis sighed, smirking at him and completely ignoring the 'asshole' comment. "It looks almost as cute as you."

Lovino paused, blinking at him. He wasn't exactly used to being hit on—everyone just sort of aimed for his little brother. He looked around awkwardly, pursing his lips together, and then looked to the floor.

"Francis, stop it," Antonio said, slapping Francis on the back of the head. His sounded annoyed. "You're making him feel uncomfortable."

"He doesn't—"

"Stop. It." Antonio's voice was completely flat, causing Francis to paused and swallow. Neither of the two said anything after that, and for what felt like too long, the five of them sat in complete silence.

"In other news," Gilbert cleared this throat. "Francis, a little birdie told me you shagged someone yesterday."

"I almost did, but my roommate was being a total cock block." Francis sighed and rolled his eyes. "I mean, if your room mate shows up at midnight making out with a totally hot chick, you'd leave right? I mean, who the hell would just sit there and stare at you?"

"Yeah! I mean . . ." Feliciano cleared his throat. "It's not against the rules to, err, have sex with your roommate, is it?"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do you want to kn—?"

"Oh, look! Ludwig!" Feliciano got up, waving his arms around. Across the courtyard walked an incredibly tall blond man next to a rather small Asian man (hehe. Height differences were kinky.). He made a face when Feliciano called his name, and Lovino scowled. It didn't take much for him to dislike people, and he already didn't like Ludwig. "Ludwig!"

Feliciano jumped off the bench, attempting to grab his backpack and run over to his roommate. Along the way, he tripped over a tree root, stumbled, and then knocked into the tree next to him. He screamed, and something fell from the tree.

Lovino's first reaction was to laugh. "You're such a klutz-!"

But then he realized what Feliciano knocked over.

A huge wasp's nest cracked as it fell to the ground. There was a large amount of screaming as the wasps began to swam, and Lovino stopped laughing and decided to abandon ship.

"Lovino!" Antonio exclaimed, looking back to the cracked wasp's nest. "What about your brother—?!"

_"Forget Feliciano! Feliciano is dead!_" Lovino shouted, running back to the building at top speed with Antonio in tow. Antonio kept a tight grip on Lovino's wrist- and by the sound of it—he was still upset about having to leave behind his lunch (and Feliciano, maybe). Meanwhile, he could see Francis clutching his hair while Gilbert hitching a piggy back ride from his "little" brother.

Lovino decided that the safest place was inside the school building, but he didn't stop running until he'd climbed two and a half sets of stairs. Halfway through the third staircase, he was tired and nearly passing out from exhaustion. Antonio was tired as well, and the two of them were breathing hard.

"You, uh . . . o-over did that a bit . . ." Antonio breathed.

"Sh-shut up!" Lovino snapped, and he paused to quickly wipe his eyes. He hadn't really noticed that he was crying until he'd stopped running. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves, huffing and looking away from Antonio. That _idiota _couldn't see him cry.

"Are you . . . ok?" Antonio asked, scooting closer to Lovino, who moved farther away from him in response. "Hey, you know . . . its ok to be scared. I mean, I was pretty terrified too—"

"Fuck off."

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**A/N: Review, please! - Lily**


	5. Gilbert Pulls A Suarez

**A/N: Another update coming your way! I apologize for all the soccer references (the chapter title itself is a reference) in this chapter- it ****_is _****World Cup after all. I mean, you'll still be able to get it even if you're not a soccer fan or if you haven't been closely following the matches. Anyways, enjoy Italy's chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & BrightBlueNinjas**

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**Chapter Five: Gilbert Pulls A Suarez**

Feliciano had never been one for sports. His interests consisted of cooking, dancing, and painting. And running, to an extent. He'd been somewhat of a theatre kid growing up, so running from bullies had become a pastime of his. They'd never caught him once, and he was incredibly proud of that fact. His brother wasn't really that different, considering he also hated anything physical and preferred sleep over anything. Come to think of it, Feliciano couldn't think of a single thing that his big brother liked. Well, there was tomatoes and siestas, but that was about it.

So, Feliciano was surprised when Lovino stopped him and told him that he was going to play soccer with him and some other guys. Apparently, it was three on three soccer and he was missing a person.

"_Fratello_, I don't want to play," Feliciano whined, and Lovino threw a soccer ball at him. It hit him hard in the stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"Well, you're gonna," Lovino scoffed. "Francis and Gilbert have already sided with your douchebag roommate."

"I don't understand what I've done to upset you—" Ludwig was already on the field. He crossed his arms over his chest. His _muscular_ chest.

"Shut up, Ludwig." Lovino growled.

"If he doesn't want to play, I will—" Antonio suggested from the nearby bleachers.

"Shut up, Antonio!" Lovino snapped, causing Antonio to flinch.

"I don't see why he can't play," another boy with caterpillar-like brows and blonde hair that Feliciano hadn't met said with a shrug. "I mean, since your brother obviously doesn't want to."

"Don't push your luck, Kirkland," Lovino snarled. "I didn't want you on my team to begin with, but it was either you or Señor Stupid over here," he looked to Antonio and wrinkled his nose. "Moving on, fratello, you don't have a choice. So get your ass over here and play."

Feliciano sighed, deciding not to argue and ran out to the field. His brother put him on as goalie, and Feliciano did as he was told. It was him and Francis as goalies, while Ludwig, Lovino, Gilbert, and that other boy with the eyebrows played field. Antonio blew the whistle to start the game, and Lovino and Ludwig dived for the ball. Ludwig took it with ease, kicking it to Gilbert, who kicked it back to Ludwig. The latter kicked it hard towards the goal and scored.

Feliciano had let him score for two reasons. Number one, he was too busy watching him play soccer (are human beings even allowed to be that attractive?). Second, a ball was hurtling towards him at top speed, and he was not ready for the gates of death. So he screamed, and got into a fetal position, allowing the ball to go over his head.

"FELICIANO, YOU IDIOT" Lovino shouted, and Feliciano cringed. "The ball's not going to hurt you!"

"But it was scary—!"

"Ugh, you're useless!" Lovino groaned, and then turned to Eyebrows. "Kirkland, switch out with Feli. Feli, you'll be on field."

Feliciano—more than eager to stop being goalie—ran up and stood beside his brother. Antonio blew the whistle again, and Feliciano ran for the ball and kicked. Somehow, he'd missed, and Gilbert practically took it out from under him. He face-planted on the ground, and spit out a mouthful of grass. Looking annoyed, Lovino stole the ball from Gilbert and kicked it to Feliciano. Feliciano tried to kick it again, but missed, and Ludwig stole it from him yet again. This time when he fell, he landed hard on his bottom. From that point on, Ludwig was able to kick it towards the goal and score. Arthur barely missed the ball, proving himself to be a slightly better goalie than Feliciano.

"Oh, my God," Lovino sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Feli, get out."

Feliciano nodded, running off the field and onto the bleachers, taking a seat next to Antonio.

Lovino turned towards the bleachers and made a face. "Does anyone want to play?"

Antonio's hand shot up in the air.

"Anybody else?"

Antonio waved his hand around, and Feliciano pointed to him.

"Fine," Lovino sighed. "Antonio, get your ass over here."

Antonio beamed, running up to the field. He was practically jumping up and down with joy, smiling at his roommate. "I won't let you down! Trust me, I'm really good at this—!"

"Shut up and play, _zoccola_," Lovino snapped, and Feliciano was happily put on whistle duty.

Feliciano blew the whistle, and the game started up again at full speed. Antonio took the ball from Gilbert after a struggle for it, and scored the first goal for his team. Lovino was reluctant to admit that Antonio was a good player, so he simply shrugged and told him he should've scored quicker. The two German players recollected quickly, and as soon as the whistle was blown (hehe, blow), Ludwig took the ball and passed it effortlessly to his brother. Gilbert shot towards the goal and scored, causing Lovino to yell at Arthur for a good ten or so minutes.

Feliciano was supposed to be keeping score or something, but he was a bit distracted. Now he got to watch Ludwig play all without having to worry about getting hit with soccer balls (he hopes all the players had decent aim). And by God, he was good. And fast, too. With muscles like that, no wonder he was so great. Feliciano wondered how long he worked out—and when. Because Ludwig lifting weights in a thin tank-top was something he definitely wanted to see—

"Foul!" Gilbert shouted suddenly, causing Feliciano to snap out of his thoughts and wipe a bit of drool off his mouth. "That was so illegal!"

"He caught it with his elbows, you _testa di cazzo_!" Lovino snapped, walking up next to Antonio, who looked around nervously with a soccer ball at his feet.

"Bullshit! He grabbed it!" Gilbert rolled his eyes, and then looked to Feliciano. "'Ey, ref! What do you think?"

"Me?" Feliciano looked around nervously, and then pointed to himself. "What do I think?"

"You're the ref, aren't you?" Lovino narrowed his eyes at his little brother, causing Feliciano to squirm. "You were watching the game, weren't you?"

"O-Of course!" Feliciano gave his brother a nervous laugh, then swallowed and looked to Ludwig. "What do you think?"

"Foul."

"Then it was a foul," Feliciano said. "Carry on."

"There's no way that was a foul!" Lovino exclaimed, looking dumbfounded at his brother.

"Excuse you, it's whatever Ludwig says it is!" Feliciano scoffed, as if this was all just common knowledge and everyone else here just didn't get it. "Does it really matter, anyways? Just keep playing."

Even though Lovino looked annoyed with Feliciano's decision, he continued to keep playing. The game went on smoothly—at least, Feliciano figured it did. He'd decided for and against a few fouls here and there, all while keeping a close watch on Ludwig. He had such a nice ass, especially when he ran. Did Lovino seriously expect him to watch a three-on-three soccer game when a much better show was going on? The game had come to a surprising halt, however, in the last few moments of the game. Gilbert had tried to steal the ball from Lovino, with Lovino blocking him off nearly every time. Gilbert, clearly frustrated, had bit Lovino on the shoulder. Lovino screamed, making all seven of the people out there freeze. Gilbert jumped off of him, clutching his aching teeth as Lovino shrieked and clutched his shoulder.

"HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! YOU RABID GERMAN FREAK, YOU BIT ME!" Lovino screamed, and Feliciano thought that his brother was about to cry. "I'M GONNA DIE! I'M BLEEDING! IT'S TOO LATE FOR ME! THEY'RE GONNA HAVE TO CHOP MY ARM OFF! THEY'RE GONNA HAVE TO AMPUTATE IT!"

"Calm down, it's not like he has fangs," Ludwig said, running over and shooting a dirty look at his brother. He lightly touched Lovino's arm, getting a better look at his injury. "But… You might want to put ice on that—"

"Don't touch me!" Lovino snapped, slapping Ludwig's hand away and scowling at him. "You're probably just as rabid as your psychotic older brother!"

"Let's get him to the nurse," Antonio muttered to Francis, who helped Lovino up. The boy had angry tears falling down his cheeks, clutching his shoulder and spitting out angry curses and insults at anything of German origin. The two walked him off to the nurse, while Gilbert explained to his little brother that he hadn't meant to bite him, and that it was just a natural instinct of his.

"You know . . ." Feliciano fell in stride with the two Germans, and decided to take advantage of the situation by inching closer to Ludwig. "I don't think you're rabid or psychotic."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, and walked off.

* * *

**A/N: Who else thinks Luis Suarez got too harsh a punishment? I mean, sure: no cannibalism on the field. It doesn't say that anywhere in the rules, but... Still. Kicking him out of the Cup AND making him pay a huge amount of money seems like a bit much even if it has occurred before. Even the Italian guy he bit said that it was too much. According to psychologists, though, Suarez' biting impulse is the result of a habit he couldn't break out of as a kid. He apparently comes from a family that used to be very poor, and was the youngest of, like, seven siblings, so... To get something he wanted, he must have had to bite his siblings to take it away from them. I don't know- I just think its a bit much (and I'm not even rooting for Uruguay). Anyways, review, please! :) - Lily**


	6. The Soviet Club

**A/N: Late-ish update! Kinda! I really don't know how I'm gonna update when I'm on vacation... But I'll figure that out later. Anyways, here's Lithuania's chapter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & BrightBlueNinjas**

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**Chapter Six: The Soviet Club**

Toris set his highlighter down as the professor explained something. His psychology syllabus was already more fluorescent yellow than white; he had highlighted every important detail. He didn't want to miss a thing that the professor was saying, though, so he diverted his attention back to the podium in the center of the classroom. The professor was explaining the school's policy on plagiarism: automatic failure of the class, expulsion, and in severe cases, legal charges. The same policy went for any form of cheating (sans the 'legal charges' part). Toris had heard this very same speech twice so far: both from his psychology and biology professors (and he was sure to hear it from the rest of his teachers, too). Hetalia University adhered to a strict honor code that frowned upon any sort of dishonesty. Toris agreed with it.

A bell signaled the end of period. Toris scrambled to pack his things; he didn't want to be late to his class. The yellow highlighter rolled off his desk, and away to the front of the room. He sighed, chasing after it, and was about to bend down to shove it back in his bag. But somebody had already beat him to it.

"This rolled off your desk, yes?" A very tall boy with pale blonde hair and a friendly smile held out the highlighter. His accent indicated that—like Toris—he was not American.

"Yes," Toris shyly accepted the writing utensil, and craned his neck to look the stranger in the eyes. They were a dark blue. "Thank you."

"It is no problem. I am Ivan." The boy's smile seemed unfathomable. "You are not from this country, _da?" _

Ah, so he was Russian.

"No," Toris admitted as they walked out of the empty classroom. This boy seemed good enough company. "I'm from Lithuania. And you? Oh, um, I'm Toris. Toris Laurinaitis."

"Russia," he answered. Was he not hot in that heavy overcoat of his? "Here."

He produced a neat red envelope from one of the pockets of his coat. Toris stared at it.

"It is an invitation," Ivan beamed. "For the club that I am starting up. I have started looking for members now so it will gain popularity and influence over time. You will attend, yes?"

Toris wanted to say no, but the friendly and enthusiastic expression on the other boy's face was impeding him. He took the red envelope from him.

"I guess—"

"Great!" Ivan said. "I will see you tonight at six, _da?"_

He walked off. Toris tucked the invitation away. Maybe this club wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

The Soviet Club, as it turned out, was made up of four members— five, counting him—so far. Toris recognized the two boys he roomed with—Raivis and Eduard—sitting at the center of the long table as he walked in the empty classroom. As there were no other boys to room with, the three of them had to room together in the smaller dorm adjoining to Ivan's. Dorm rooms usually weren't very large, and having three boys in one room made matters cramped. The host himself sat at the head of the table. On his right sat a girl with short blonde hair held back by a yellow headband, and, uh… A rather large... Um… Well, he was sure she had a great personality. She smiled at him as he walked in. Toris noticed that his two roommates looked as confused as he did. He took a seat in the empty seat next to Raivis where he sat on Ivan's left.

He didn't know what to expect out of this interest meeting. The name of the club was eyebrow-raise worthy: The Soviet Club. That was a rather strange name. Maybe it would be some sort of ethnic fraternity. After all, Ivan had asked him if he was from America, and then pulled out the invitation when he said he wasn't. Ivan himself was Russian, and he was pretty certain that Raivis and Eduard were from Eastern Europe as well. Huh. Everyone at the table was quiet. Eduard wiped his glasses. The well-endowed girl took out a sewing kit, and sewed a button that had just popped off back on her blouse. Ivan beamed at everyone.

"Are we going to start the meeting?" Raivis suddenly piped up. "Because I—"

"Get out of my seat, faggot."

Toris looked up to see a girl standing above him. Her expression was menacing, and her voice cut like icicles. But she was beautiful. Her long, silvery hair hung straight down to her waist, and gleamed like starlight. Her dark blue eyes were cold, but framed with long lashes. Her pretty pink lips were set in a sneer. A bit of pink blusher tinged her fair cheeks, but otherwise she wore no make-up. She had to be the prettiest girl Toris had ever seen.

"Well?" Her harshly accented voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "What are you waiting for? That's my seat!"

Toris blinked, and scrambled out of the chair. She sat down daintily, and threw him a dirty look while smoothing out her navy skirt and crossing her long legs. He took a seat next on Raivis' other side. His cheeks felt hot. He tried to avoid craning his neck to peer at the pretty girl.

"Alright!" Ivan clapped his hands together. "We are all here! Let's start by introducing ourselves, _da? _I am Ivan and I am from Russia."

"My name is Yekaterina Braginskaya." The girl with the headband said. Her voice was gentle. Toris tried not to stare at her massive breasts as that would be rude. "I'm from the Ukraine."

"Natalya Arlovskaya." The gorgeous girl whom had taken his seat spoke up. Her voice was pleasantly husky. She tended to lean towards Ivan. "Belarus."

Natalya. That was a pretty name.

"Eduard von Bock," Eduard shoved his glasses back on, and smiled nervously. "I'm from Estonia."

"I'm Raivis Galante," Raivis was enthusiastic. "And I'm from Latvia. It's a Baltic state."

Everyone turned to look at Toris (except for Natalya).

"T-Toris," His voice wavered a bit, and he inwardly cursed. He sounded stupid. "Toris Laurinaitis. Lithuania."

* * *

Toris followed Raivis and Eduard out of the classroom. It was around seven—the interest meeting hadn't taken too long. But it seemed as if they were there to stay; something about Ivan made them not want leave (and that wasn't necessarily a good thing). The guy had a weird vibe to him. Oh, well. It couldn't be that bad, right? Yekaterina left before they could. It seemed as if she already knew Ivan. Throughout half the meeting, Toris had caught Raivis staring at her. She must have major back problems. His roommates went back to the dorm without him as he hung back towards the door. He peeked inside: Ivan was busy writing something down on a notebook while Natalya hung over him. It seemed as if she already knew him too. Toris frowned. He hoped they weren't dating or anything.

He made his way back to his dorm with one last glance at her.

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**A/N: Lithuania is such a cutie, and his crush on Belarus is adorable. But I don't ship LietBel as I'm kind of an avid AmeBel shipper. Review!- Lily **


	7. Group Projects

**A/N: Hello! Sorry, I took a bit of a break from updating. Anyways, here's Romano's chapter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & BrightBlueNinjas**

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**Chapter Seven: Group Projects**

With all of the chaos that happened in the first few days of Lovino's arrival, he nearly forgot that he was here to learn. But he was given a cruel reminder when he had to attend the next day's class—American literature. He'd woken up late, as his shit of a roommate didn't wake him up. He'd woken up by pure chance at nine o'clock, and Antonio was nowhere to be seen. Lovino panicked, getting dressed in a flurry, skipping breakfast and dashing to the classroom. He was the last one to arrive, and the bell went off just as he stepped into the room. He was panting and wiping sweat off his forehead, as he looked into the seats. Nearly every seat was taken. The only empty one was literally right next to Antonio, and Lovino was not in any way willing to sit next to him.

His plan was to kick whoever was sitting next to his brother out of his seat (Feliciano was wedged between Ludwig and the small Asian man from the other day, sitting much too close to Ludwig for Lovino's comfort). That didn't work when Antonio saw him, and he threw his arms up in the air.

"Lovino, Lovino! Over here; I saved you a seat!"

Lovino exhaled—there was literally no other open seat. So he walked up the stairs, taking a seat next to Antonio and putting his bag on his seat. After he got all of his stuff out, he looked to Antonio and scowled. "Why the hell didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked so peaceful," Antonio smiled, and Lovino snarled back at him. "Besides, you said you set an alarm."

"It didn't go off," Lovino grunted. "Next time, if you let me miss a class because you're a creeper who likes to watch people sleep, I swear I'll rip—"

The professor entered the classroom, telling them to quiet down while writing his name on the board. He then began to talk about things that Lovino didn't really care about—meaning the syllabus, the rules, what they were going to be doing for the semester. When Lovino looked around, he could see that most students weren't paying attention. A brunette man was already asleep at his desk, the tall guy sitting behind him was drawing pictures of sunflowers on his syllabus, and Lovino could tell that the student with the ponytail in the second row was eating. Typical. Antonio and his two friends were already chatting in hushed voices, and Lovino scowled. Why would he save him a seat if he was just going to ignore him? Lovino really didn't know why he was so pissed—it wasn't like he and Antonio had anything in common or anything to talk about. But either way, he grabbed Antonio by the ear and tugged on it.

"Ah!" Antonio let out a noise of pain, looking over to him and giving Lovino a confused look. "What was that for?"

Lovino didn't answer, simply giving him an angry look. Antonio and Gilbert (who was sitting on the other side of Antonio) exchanged an odd glance, turning and slowly returning back into their conversation. He bit his bottom lip. He couldn't think of anything to say, but he hated to be ignored. Not really thinking his actions through, he grabbed Antonio's ear and tugged on it again.

Antonio, once again, looked over with a confused look on his face. "Uh . . . what is it?"

And once again, Lovino said nothing. Gilbert smirked, whispered something into Antonio's ear, and Antonio's face lit up with a smile. Lovino made a face. He couldn't hear what Gilbert had told him—and he didn't exactly care about what Gilbert said. Lovino settled on 'I probably don't want to know' and returned his attention to the front of the room. The professor had stopped going on about the rules and started talking about books or something. Lovino tried to pay attention, but Antonio's snickering distracted him. He hated how close these desks were together. He could hear nearly every bit of their conversation and he didn't want to.

"Alright, class," the professor said, turning and writing something on the board. "For your next assignment, I would like you to get into groups. You will be reading and writing an essay on," he wrote the words on the board as he spoke. "To Kill a Mockingbird. It's due next month, and your essay is to be no less than ten pages long. I will hand out prompts in a moment," he clapped. "So get into your groups."

Before Lovino could make his way over to his brother, Antonio grabbed _his_ ear and tugged on it. Lovino hissed in pain, causing Gilbert to burst out laughing as Antonio smiled at him. "Do you want to be in our group?"

"No, I don't want to be in your stupid-ass group!" Lovino snapped.

"Who else are you gonna group with?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Your brother's already taken."

When Lovino looked over, he saw that Gilbert was right. Feliciano was already in a group with Ludwig and the Asian boy. The brunette who was sleeping during class and a masked man (what the fuck was he wearing a mask for?) bickered over who got to be in the Asian boy's group.

"They need a fourth person," Lovino scowled.

"Do you really want to fight those two for the position?" Francis asked, smirking. Lovino shivered; as much as he hated to admit it, he had a point. So he scowled at them, and then nodded.

"Fine," he snapped, sitting back down next to Antonio. "I'll be in your stupid group, stupid."

"Wonderful," Gilbert smirked, and as soon as they were settled, he turned to France. "So, how are you enjoying your new record? I don't think anyone else has had sex on campus mere hours after getting here."

"I didn't have sex on campus," Francis scowled at Arthur, who was sitting a couple of rows below them, in a group with a pair of blonde twins and a tan man with a cigar in his mouth (that shouldn't be allowed.) "My roommate cockblocked me, remember?"

"Maybe it wasn't meant to be," Antonio said, taking the prompt paper from the guy who was passing it out. "Who was it, anyways?"

"Her," Francis gestured to the Asian student with the ponytail, who'd somehow won the fourth person place in Feliciano's group. Lovino raised his eyebrows, and Gilbert whistled.

"Not bad, Francis," Gilbert smirked, nudging Francis on the arm. "She's a good one."

"Excuse me," the tall boy sitting behind them (Lovino couldn't help but notice that the other three members of his group were practically trembling in fear) said as he tapped Francis on the shoulder. He had a Russian accent. "Are you talking about that one?"

He pointed to the student with the ponytail, and the four of them nodded. A small smirk came to the boy's face. "That's Yao Wang."

They stared at him, silent and unblinking.

"He's a boy."

Lovino raised his eyebrows. Yao had had him fooled, but he didn't see what the big deal was. Francis didn't do him—he almost did, but he didn't. So he didn't see why this was important, considering Francis had openly flirted with him a few days back. Gilbert, however, thought differently. He was laughing so hard he looked like he was going to pass out, slamming his hand on his desk and causing a number of students to turn around and scowl at him. "L-Leave it—to Francis—to nearly bang some—gender-confused dude—j-just because he can! This is literally the best—thing—oh my god—I'm literally crying—!"

"Great," Francis sighed. "My roommate stopped me from getting with a really cute guy."

"By the way," the tall boy lowered his voice, and Francis shivered. "If you ever try to get with Yao again, I will literally castrate you."

And with that, he smiled at the four horrified boys, and continued with a giddy, happy tone. "Good luck on your essay!"

Needless to say, Antonio and Gilbert were done asking Francis about his first night on campus.

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**A/N: Review, please. - Lily**


	8. Big Brothers and PB Lube

**A/N: Hey, so this will probably be the last update for a month or so. My co-author and I are both on vacation for the time being, so it'll be hard writing and uploading. I don't know when she'll be back, but I'll be gone for a month. When I get back, school starts back up again, so I don't know how much I'll be able to write. I'll be writing when I'm on vacation, but I won't be bringing my laptop, so I will not be able to upload anything. I guess I COULD try to write another chapter in the next few days, but since I am leaving next week and I still have to pack, I really don't know if I can. I really want to thank everybody who has reviewed, favorited, and followed, though. It means a lot. :) Here's Britain's chapter:  
Note: Alistair, Connor, and Dylan are Arthur's older brothers (Scotland Ireland, and Wales). Since Ireland doesn't have an official name, we decided to name him Connor (which is an Irish name). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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**You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up  
A Lily By Any Other Name & Bright Blue Ninjas**

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**Chapter Eight: Big Brothers and PB Lube**

Arthur hurried down the hallway when the bell rang. He was headed outside for lunch, and didn't want to end up sitting on the steps in the courtyard. All the good seats would be taken if he didn't hurry. He didn't bother going to the dining hall—the weather was so nice and warm that it would be a crime to not eat outside. He sat at one of the empty picnic tables at the far end of the courtyard, and unpacked his lunch. He liked this table: it was isolated and shaded by a large oak tree (he was a bit wary about the tree, though. He heard some idiot had knocked a wasp nest off one).

He took a bite of his cucumber sandwich, and looked around the courtyard. His horrid roommate—Francis Bonnefoy—sat at a table with that obnoxious albino boy and their Spanish friend (or as Lovino Vargas referred to him, Senor Stupid). Francis had to be the most inconsiderate person he had ever met: he sang loudly in the shower, didn't bother to clean said shower (Arthur did _not _want to pick up long, golden hairs off the tub), and brought strange women—and men, probably—to the dorm at late hours of the night. It was just so… _Rude. _Arthur was finding it harder and harder to be courteous and respectful to him with each passing antic. After all, he had already suffered enough back at home with—

"Arty!"

Oh, no.

Not them.

He sighed.

"Hello, Alistair. Dylan. Connor."

His three brothers stood above him in an almost menacing sort of way. Alistair: the red-headed menace, Dylan: the strawberry blonde menace, and Connor: the other red-headed menace. Arthur scooted over as Alistair took a seat next to him on the picnic table.

"Hey, little brother!" Alistair threw his arm around him. Arthur sneered while Dylan and Connor snickered. "How's your first week of uni been? We haven't seen you around campus all week!"

"Get off me, you git," Arthur growled as he shoved his brother off. Alistair laughed.

"It's almost as if he's trying to avoid us," Connor snickered. "Right, Dylan?"

"Absolutely," Dylan ruffled Arthur's hair. Arthur glared at him. "No hair cut yet, little brother? If it gets any longer, you'll look like a broom."

"Says you—"

"And those awful clothes," Alistair tsked. "Really, Arty, really? Tweed. We're in the start of September and you're wearing tweed. Have you learned nothing?"

"You're one to talk—"

"Your eyebrows!" Connor poked his face. "They've gotten bigger since we last saw you! Tell me, do they crawl yet?"

"When do they turn into butterflies?" Dylan snickered. The other two laughed.

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur rolled his eyes, stood up, and brushed himself off. Dylan took a bite of his cucumber sandwich, and wrinkled his nose as he swallowed. "Why are you here?"

"We go to this school."

"That's not what I meant, Connor."

"What?" Alistair grinned. "Can we not talk to our favorite little brother? Or are you embarrassed to be seen with us?"

"Somewhat." Arthur muttered.

Alistair, Connor, and Dylan had been messing with him since he was born. Alistair was the oldest—a senior—while Connor and Dylan were both juniors. That left Arthur as the youngest of four. He had spent thirteen years being their scapegoat. Thirteen years of getting blamed for stuff, wedgies, wet willies, pranks, and teasing accumulated to Alistair's leave for the States. That left only Connor, Dylan, and Arthur. When he was fourteen, Connor and Dylan left to join Alistair at Hetalia University. Arthur was an only child for four years after that. He loved it; no annoying brothers to push him around. He was ecstatic to be accepted into the university, but he knew it meant being near his brothers again.

The past four years had given him a tougher skin, however.

"Don't be like that, Arty," Alistair shook his head. "We're so glad you're finally attending big boy school with us. Now we can look after you like we always did. How are you enjoying the place so far? Like your roommate?"

"No," Arthur spat. "He's even worse than you lot."

"Who is he?" Connor asked. "Do we know him?"

"'Cause if we do, we'll kick his arse for being more infuriating than us." Dylan said. "Nobody can take our place."

"Thanks for the sentiment," Arthur rolled his eyes. "His name is Francis Bonnefoy, and for you stupid sake, I hope you don't have classes with him—"

"Francis?" Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Yes? Did I not just say that?"

The older boys started snickering. Arthur raised a thick eyebrow at them.

"What?" He said. "What's so funny?"

"Your roommate is a freak," Connor chuckled. "Total slut."

"What a man-whore," Alistair scoffed. "Wouldn't want to room with him."

"I'd be scared he'd try to do something to me while I'm sleeping." Dylan snickered. "Watch your back, Arty. Guys like that are pretty nasty."

Arthur frowned. That was rude of them to say. Francis was inconsiderate and inappropriate, but…

"Are you blokes trying to look out for me or something?" He shook his head and scoffed. "Bonnefoy is a prick, but you're letting on more than you know. Besides, it's not like I like him or something."

"Suuuuuuuure," Alistair smirked. "Just don't come crying to us when he breaks your little heart."

It was time to go back inside. Arthur's brothers all left laughing, and joking around with each other. Arthur watched as they left; Alistair was taller than both Dylan and Connor so he stood in the center of the trio. He sighed, shook his head, and picked his stuff up. His cucumber sandwich sat uneaten in its container. He disposed of it in the trashcan before entering the building again.

* * *

"There is some gum in your hair."

Arthur didn't even look at Francis as he stormed inside the dorm room. The bubblegum in his hair was starting to stick to his scalp now. He could practically hear Alistair, Connor, and Dylan laughing in the distance. What a stupid prank; they'd pulled it on him millions of times when they were kids. Those immature blokes. Would they ever stop? Arthur grabbed his scissors from his drawer, marched into the bathroom, and slammed the bathroom door shut. If they teased him about his hair… Then he would cut it just for them…

"THAT IS NOT HOW YOU GET GUM OUT OF YOUR HAIR!" Francis screamed. He looked appalled. Arthur frowned. He was holding a jar of… Peanut butter?

"Oh, do you have a better idea, then?" Arthur watched as locks of his hair drifted to the sink below. He stood with his hand on his hip, and turned to look at his horrified roommate.

"Yes!" Francis screeched. "Peanut butter! _Mon dieu, _do you Englishmen have no love for yourselves or your hair?! Come here—"

"Don't touch me!" Arthur said. "I don't want peanut butter in my hair! I can just cut it—"

Francis had already tackled him to the sink. Arthur screeched and struggled as he smeared the thick, disgusting cream on his head. Francis was literally digging handfuls out of the jar, and massaging it into his scalp. He then shoved his head under the open sink, and scrubbed. Arthur spluttered as peanut butter-flavored water tricked down his forehead and into his nose and mouth. Francis grabbed the towel off its rack, and almost violently towel-dried the still-uneven—but not sticky—strands. Arthur glared at him from beneath his curtain of wet hair, and spit water out of his mouth.

"You're welcome, Brit." Francis threw the towel at him, and picked up his jar of peanut butter. "Your hair was hopeless to begin with, but now it looks even worse. I could give you a haircut, too—"

"No thank you."

Arthur dropped the towel in the clothes hamper, and stalked out of the bathroom. He then paused.

"Wait… Why did you have peanut butter?'

Francis winked at him.

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**A/N: Please review! - Lily **


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